


The World in a Box

by octopus_fool



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Childhood, Gen, Khazâd November
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-18
Updated: 2017-11-18
Packaged: 2019-02-03 23:00:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12757908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/octopus_fool/pseuds/octopus_fool
Summary: Óin wants nothing more than to look at the box his Siginadad keeps in his study. When the family is busy cooing over Glóin, he finally sees his chance.





	The World in a Box

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Day 18 of [Khazâd November](https://a-grump-of-dwarves.tumblr.com/post/166304116735/khaz%C3%A2d-november-2017), the additional prompt was "rune".  
>  **Khuzdûl words:**  
>  Siginadad – Grandfather  
> Adad - Father

Óin knew he wasn’t supposed to. Siginadad didn’t like when he wanted to look at the box. He said it was not for little dwarflings like Óin. But Óin wasn’t a little dwarfling anymore, he was now a big brother. And while the entire family was cooing over a screaming Glóin, Óin had drifted over into the next room, where the big box stood. 

He had seen Siginadad take out the stones often enough, running his hands over them, shaking them into different directions and blowing on them before throwing them onto a flat stone table that was built straight into the mountain. Óin had tried the same with pebbles he found out on the mountainside, but Siginadad’s stones were much nicer. They had all kinds of colours, the normal grey the boulders outside had, pure black, yellow with little speckles, red like the sunset, sparkling white, green like the forest the horrible elves lived in and a strange shade of purple. They were smooth and Óin had seen that they had little pictures on them that he didn’t understand. They were the most beautiful thing Óin had ever seen, more beautiful even than the golden crown King Thrór wore on his head. 

Óin didn’t even want to play with them, he just wanted to look at them more closely and feel how they felt between his fingers. He would be very careful not to damage them or make them dirty. 

Cautious not to make a sound, Óin pulled a chair over to the desk on which Siginadad kept the box. He climbed onto it and pulled the box towards him, just a little bit so that he could see better. He opened the lid and peered inside. There, finally close enough for him to reach, were all the beautiful stones, carefully laid in rows on soft velvet. Óin stretched out a finger and let it hover above the box. He didn’t quite dare to touch the stones yet, so he ran his finger across the velvet, very lightly, just enough to feel the soft fabric tickle against his finger. He could smell it too, dry but not dusty, a bit like stones on a warm summer day. 

Óin glanced over his shoulder. Nobody had noticed he was missing yet, and he could hear Siginadad laugh at something Glóin did. It was rather nice that Glóin was finally good for something other than screaming and being smelly. 

Óin looked at the stones, trying to decide which one to touch first. He could tell that the strange signs and lines had been carved into the stones with great care, not like the signs Amad scratched onto her little slate before she went to the market. They were all pretty and none looked like the other. Finally, Óin decided on one that had the same colour as Adad’s beard. 

Holding his breath, Óin reached out his finger and let it brush against the stone. He nearly howled in pain as soon as it made contact. He pulled his hand back and stuck his finger into his mouth to cool it, just like he had when he had brushed against the stove when he was younger. He stared at the stone as though it might follow him and burn him again. Siginadad had never told him that the stones burned like fire, but that would explain why they weren’t meant for little dwarflings. Finally, Óin pulled his finger out of his mouth to see if it was already starting to develop a blister like it had back then, but it wasn’t even red. 

Óin bit his lip. He wanted to look at the stones and touch them, but he was afraid the others might hurt him too. He looked at his finger again. It looked just like it always did, just a little wet from sucking on it. Óin wiped it on his gown, he didn’t want the stones to get dirty, after all. 

Curiosity got the better of him. If he used his pointing finger on the other hand, the burn wouldn’t get worse. Óin looked at the stones more closely. He wasn’t going to touch any of the other red stones, just to be sure. The grey one looked fairly unremarkable, safe even. He hovered his finger just above the surface. There was no heat to be felt. Óin tapped against the stone as briefly as possible. It didn’t burn him. It felt safe. Óin extended his finger again and really touched it. It didn’t just feel safe, it stretched around him, a vast shape of security, happiness and wealth. He could hear the coins clinking deep down in the treasury, could smell the food of the stalls in the market and hear the people laughing. It was the mountain, the very mountain he lived in. And it was small enough to conceal in his own hand, light enough to lift. Óin’s mouth stood ajar in wonder. When he felt too overwhelmed by the feeling, he set down the stone.

What would the other stones feel like? Would they hurt, or would be as marvellous as the one he had just touched. There was no way he wasn’t going to try them too. 

Óin touched another grey one next, since that had proved to be a good choice previously. His breath was swept away and he felt as if his Adad had thrown him into the little mountain pond in which they sometimes swam in summer. Once he shook off the feeling of drowning, he felt like he was swimming in pleasantly cool water. If Óin had been slightly thirsty earlier, he no longer was. He set it down and checked to see if his clothes had become wet. They were as dry as ever. 

He reached out a finger to a light grey stone with little flecks of blue. A wave of nausea swept over him, so powerful that Óin had to clamp his hands to his mouth in order not to be sick all over the stones. He felt dizzy and there was a horrible taste in his mouth. He sat down on the chair for a moment until he finally felt better again. 

Telling himself there would surely be more nice stones than horrible ones, Óin got up again and touched a brown stone. Although it looked just as solid and smooth as all the other ones, it felt slightly spongy beneath his fingers. Óin wriggled his toes about, feeling the damp earth squish between his toes. The damp scent of soil filled his nose. 

He set the stone down again and was just about to touch the speckled yellow one when he heard his Adad’s voice right behind him. 

“What are you doing? You know you are not supposed to touch the stones.”

Óin startled and would have fallen off the chair had his Adad not steadied him.

“I’m sorry, I just wanted to take a little look. I just thought that since I’m not a little dwarfling anymore...”

His Siginadad, who had joined them when he heard Adad reprimanding Óin, laughed.

“I’m afraid you are still too young, you wouldn’t be able to understand the rune stones yet. I promise I’ll teach you when you are older.”

“But I do understand them! That one is fire, that one is our mountain and that one is water.”

Siginadad looked at Óin with wide eyes. “How do you know that? Did Balin tell you what they mean?”

“No, I just felt it. The red one burned my finger and I was everywhere in the mountain at once when I touched the other one.”

Adad and Siginadad exchanged glances. 

“Are you sure you burnt your finger when you touched the red one? It didn’t just feel warm?” Siginadad asked.

“It really hurt and I thought I would get a big blister again.”

Siginadad reached into the box and held a greenish-grey stone out to Óin. “Can you tell what this one is?”

Óin gingerly reached out a finger and touched it. He pulled a face. “Blergh, it’s vegetables, and grass and trees too. All plants, really.”

Siginadad looked impressed. “And what about this one?” 

Óin scowled when it touched his skin. It felt unpleasant and it was also hard to put into words. “This one is Dwalin. It’s Dwalin when he has promised me he would play with me but then goes off with Thorin and they tell me I can’t play with them because I’m too small.”

“Yes, it’s betrayal,” Siginadad said. “I think you have a real talent for this, one your Adad never had.”

“What is this one?” Adad asked, holding out the light grey stone with the blue flecks.

“No, don’t touch that one!” Siginadad said. He gingerly took the stone out of Adad’s hand and returned it to the box.

Óin pulled a face. “I already touched it earlier. It’s like that time I ate the bad meat, only a hundred times worse.”

“Yes, it is poison,” Siginadad said, turning to Adad. “You can see why I at least wanted you to learn the meanings of the runes, even if you never managed to get the feel for the stones. You don’t want Óin to touch one like that, not without having learned how to weaken the sensation. From what I gather, he can feel them even more vividly than I can, and I’ve had decades of training.”

“I’m sorry,” Adad murmured. “I didn’t realise.”

Siginadad stroked his beard thoughtfully. “You know what, Óin? You have a real connection to these stones. If you like, you can come to my study again tomorrow and I’ll start teaching you about them. Usually, dwarves have to learn how to understand and feel the meaning of the stones, but with you, I think I’ll have to teach you how to dim the feeling of the stones so that you can touch the unpleasant ones without hurting yourself or can touch more than one stone at a time without being overwhelmed. Would you like to do that?”

“Yes please, Siginadad! I really want to learn all about the stones and how to touch them!”

**Author's Note:**

> I’m currently taking Christmas/Yuletide/winter requests/prompts over on Dreamwidth! If you’re interested, read more here: <https://octopus-fool.dreamwidth.org/2017/12/03/>


End file.
